Who We Are
by wrong.perfection
Summary: Superheroes, an eccentric billionaire, and constant danger. I thought I was ready to take on anything, including SHIELD...until everyone's skeleton's came dancing out of the closet.


_**Chapter 1 - Shadows in the Truth**_

Staring up at the sky, my heart pounded restlessly in my chest. My body was pressed against the ground, bits of debris and gravel digging into the exposed flesh of my back. Explosions occurred around me, sending shockwaves through the concrete. The mix of screaming people and throaty growls of alien life met my ears only to be drowned out by the constant blasts. I could no longer tell where they were coming from, but my ears were ringing in anticipation of the next one.

My own cries of pain were lost in the chaos. Tearing my gaze from the flying aliens in the sky, I looked to the crimson stain blossoming along my shoulder. The grey colored shirt I had been wearing that day was torn from the collar to the area of my wound. Beneath the torn cloth glimpses of charred flesh could be seen beneath the bloodstains.

Looking towards Stark Tower, I could see two figures on top of the tower. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I knew I needed to get over there. I had to disable the device. With my hand pressed tightly to my wound, I pushed my body from the debris of the explosion and stood on shaky feet. The adrenaline was the only thing that was keeping me going at this point.

Taking step after step towards Stark Tower, I could feel my body growing weaker from the strain. The wound must have been worse than I thought. Before I could go much further, a rather large alien stepped in my path and gave a brutish yell before pointing its weapon in my direction. Expending what energy I had left, I rushed at the alien knowing my survival depended on my actions in this moment. Throwing my weight into the hit, I grabbed the barrel of the weapon and pushed it to the side as it pulled the trigger, discharging the ray. It missed both me and the alien, but my hands were stinging from the heat of the barrel as the laser's beam hit a nearby car and exploded.

The alien and I both hit the pavement hard with the gun landing near me. Quickly moving towards it, I wrapped my finger around the trigger, aimed, and fired. There was no thought, just action. The adrenaline continued to keep me moving as I stood and tossed the weapon to the side. Laying on the ground in front of me was the alien with a large hole in its chest. Looking up from the carnage, I felt the desperation creeping upon me as I searched for any other members of the team.

I wasn't supposed to be here on the ground in the middle of the chaos. I wasn't supposed to have been this involved, but this was personal. _He_ had made it personal. I guess when it came to the destruction around us, in some way...we had all made it personal.

**TWO YEARS EARLIER**

Walking through downtown L.A. in the middle of the day was the perfect time to people watch. It was the beating heart of the city where all the biggest corporation's offices were located. Stark Industries, Roxxon Corporation, some of Hammer Industries offices, not to mention all of the talent agencies, studios, and fashion corporations that adorned the business district.

What did all of these things have in common? They took from the poor and made the rich even richer. It was a sickening notion, something that went unnoticed in the eyes of the government. The president wouldn't touch big corporations like these because this is what was keeping the US ahead of the competition. Stark Industries was the leading manufacturer in weapons, with Hammer Industries not far behind. The Roxxon Corporation controlled all the imports of oil and also most of the fields in the Middle East. The United States had gained the position as the global leader, but there was no shortages of casualties to get there.

These men in their fancy suits thought they were above the rest of the world. They could just walk all over the little guys, the people who put their blood, sweat, and tears into something like research or actual war and end up getting all their benefits and research taken away. Families start starving, people begin to lose faith in the system.

Standing in the center of the Innovation Pavilion, my eyes scanned through the crowds. Business men and women milled passed me, not paying attention to the girl with a camera. They were too busy on their phones, whether it was talking or texting. It was fascinating how ignorant some people could really be. Bringing the camera up, I snapped a few pictures when I noticed Justin Hammer emerging from some of his office space. He was talking animatedly about something, but I wasn't close enough to hear. No, he wasn't why I was here.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sent a text message to a number I had put in my phone that morning. I waited for a moment before it chirped, alerting me to a reply.

"Monger in five." That was all the message said.

My eyes darted up from the screen. Scanning the pavilion once more, I set my sights on the entrance to the offices of Stark Industries. They were the largest weapons manufacturing conglomerate in the entire world. They had offices here in L.A. and some in New York. Their reach overseas was indescribable, easily making them the sole supply of many of the United States' weapons. They had the ability to put the fear of god into countries who dared cross the USA. They were also the ones who shed the most blood and then swept it under the rug. They didn't care what kind of destruction their weapons caused when it fell into the wrong hands. They were just happy to get the fat check at the end of each day.

Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane had the blood of thousands on their hands and how do they respond to the cries of millions? They throw parties. Sure, every once in a while there was the soul unfortunate enough to defend Stark Industries. They create Intelli-Crops, a program that helped advancements in their medical technology and fed thousands, but all of that was supplied by the blood money from their war profiteering.

Shaking my head, I raised my camera and snapped a few more pictures, making it seem like I was just some unimportant photographer when I saw Obadiah stepping out of the front doors of Stark Industries. I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, but promptly ignored it as I took several photos of Stane talking to a man I didn't recognize. He was blonde with hair slicked back, like he had come straight from the 50's. His dark suit covered his lean body, bright white teeth on display from the grin on his face before he shook hands with Stane.

"Making deals with the devil," I murmured, lowering the camera and pulling the phone from my pocket.

Noticing the name on the screen, I quickly slid my finger across the unlock button, answering the call. I knew if I ignored him, he was just going to keep bothering me. Or worse…track me down.

"The person you have reached is currently in the middle of something of epic proportions. Please call back later," I spoke idly into the phone, capturing a few more pictures of the blonde man and his bald bodyguard before turning my back to them.

"Epic proportions, huh?" his voice came through the earpiece, a humorous edge to his tone. "Since when does stalking people ever lead to anything epic?"

"Excuse me, please reiterate how you make your living," I retorted, glancing over my shoulder.

I could practically hear him rolling his eyes at my statement. "What I do is different."

"Whatever you say," I muttered.

"Just turn around smart ass," he said gruffly before the call ended.

Turning on my heel, I couldn't stop the large grin that spread across my face when my gaze locked onto his familiar blues. It was a sight that never got old, especially because I never knew when the last time I was going to see him was. Without a second thought, I rushed forwards, weaving between people until I was right in front of him. He had a smirk on his face before he wrapped his arms tightly around me. Clint Barton was my silent guardian angel. Someone who had saved me from a sticky situation and ever since, he had been there when I needed him. I guess he was the protective father type I never had, minus all the emotions that came with it.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were on mission?" I asked, shaking my head as I took a step back.

Throwing his arm over my shoulder, he began leading us through the crowds as he answered, "Wrapped things up early, figured I'd stop by and see what sort of trouble you've landed yourself in."

Smirking, I shook my head as I wrapped an arm around his waist. "Oh please. I'm an angel."

"Yeah an angel that'll take you for everything you're worth," Barton muttered before pressing a brief kiss to the top of my head. "To the diner?"

"To the diner," I confirmed, looking at the path ahead.

* * *

I pushed around the French fries on my plate, not really feeling up to eating at the moment despite my earlier excitement. My head was still spinning from the sudden appearance of Clint. I adored the man sitting across from me, but we had a system. He would let me know when he was going off the grid and then he would let me know he was back on the grid. Most of the time I would get cryptic text messages or emailed memos. Not once had he ever shown up in person to let me know he was alright. That was reserved for special occasions.

"Come on Seren, you gotta eat. You're looking a little skinny," Clint said with a mouth full of food.

"That's a nice shiner you got there," I retorted, nodding towards the purpled skin around his eye. "You take a few hits recently?"

I watched as he shook his head, a smirk on his handsome face. His blue eyes were downcast, a shadow seeming to cross his face the longer he stared at the plate in front of him. I instantly regretted what I had said. I knew better than to bring up what he did for a living. Sure he had chosen that life, but in a way it had chosen him. Just like what I did.

"You know why I'm here, Ser." Barton's voice was low as he looked back up towards me.

Rolling my eyes, I raised my hand, motioning for the waiter. This conversation was over. I didn't have to explain myself or my actions to anyone. They would never really understand why I did what I did. It was a contained situation that benefited everyone in the end. There were always going to be casualties in war.

"They're not going to let you keep running from this," Barton snapped, keeping his voice low.

"Who? The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division?" I spat. "A government agency-"

"You robbed Hammer Industries!" Barton threw me an exasperated look. "The Ghost title is only going to get you so far before someone blurts your secret out."

The Ghost. That's why he was here. I knew him being here was more than just a friendly visit to let me know he was okay. No, this was business and unfortunately they sent the one person I trusted. This was why people stopped believing in the system, why _I_ stopped believing in the system.

"No one else knows," I responded as the waitress set the check on the edge of our table. "So just drop it, Clint."

"Someone is going to figure it out, Seren, and when they do what's going to happen?"

Looking down to the food on my plate, I knew what he was getting at. I tried not to think too much about what would happen. Forget the US judicial system, I would find myself buried six feet under. I was messing with very dangerous and powerful men—very amoral men. I knew that the moment I decided to play this game. This was domestic warfare and I was determined to win.

"I chose this, Clint," I murmured, looking up to meet his stern gaze. "I chose to use these talents to help people. This is how I give back to those who gave me everything-"

"You can still do that, but with the protection of the program I work under," Clint cut me off. "You can keep doing your vigilante crap, but you'll be trained. Have assignments. Do some real good in the world."

Scoffing, I shook my head, slamming a ten down on the table. I didn't have to sit here and listen to this. I had things to be doing. People to be watching and people to be helping. Being lectured on why I should join the system I'm fighting against wasn't on the top of my to-do list. Grabbing my messenger bag, I slid out of the booth and stood, pausing for a moment.

"For your information, I am doing some real good in the world. Just because I'm not killing anyone doesn't mean my differences don't count." I glared at him before stalking towards the diner's front doors.

* * *

**Hello, this is my first dip into the amazing universe that is Marvel. I'm excited to share this story with whoever reads! Please review and I hoped you enjoyed the beginning to an EPIC story.**


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